In case you're wondering why I'm in a wheelchair and Facebook's algorithm still hasn't clued you in:
On November 18, 2015 I walked into Emory Midtown Hospital for surgery to remove a large tumor from inside my spine. I had no idea about the grueling journey I had just begun. Sure, I knew the surgery was serious. Every surgeon I consulted said the exact same thing: the spine is "major real estate." And I would imagine that Nicholas Cage meme and think, "How dumb do you think I am?"
Despite the dire warning, I knew I had one of the best surgeons in the nation for this kind of thing. Dr. Gerald Rodts looks and talks like a 50-ish Robert Redford and he's been around "major real estate" for decades. He said the chance of short term paralysis after the surgery was 30% and permanent paralysis was a scant 1%.
Lucky me?
Here I am a year later and I haven't walked more than three steps at a time. And that's with a walker. The recovery process is much longer and much more difficult than I ever imagined. I felt a mixture of fear and disappointment leading up to today. I've cried bitter tears the past 12 months as I grieved for my former self. I often felt like I died on November 18, 2015 and I'm a broken ghost haunting the remnants of my former life. Nerves are weird, to say the least. There's no guarantee on how much I will recover or how long it will take.
And yet my main emotions today have been hope and gratitude. My right leg was affected most by the tumor, and two weeks ago, it suddenly regained a bit more mobility. And last week, I finally transferred from my wheelchair into my car without having to use the cumbersome sliding board. Who knows what could happen in six months, next week, or even tomorrow?
I'm thankful for every new accomplishment, no matter how small (tying my shoes, standing for five minutes, doing a load of laundry, not falling naked off the bed like that one time). I'm thankful for every single person I have helping me along this journey (Marnye, family, friends, therapists, doctors, Village Theatre, that one guy who propped up my chair when one of my wheels fell off). I'm thankful this is not the end. I'll keep fighting. I'll keep living the best I can with what I have- an embarrassment of riches of love and support.
